


New Year's Nostalgia

by PhilosophicalRune



Category: Sanders Sides, Sanders Sides (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom, Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hugs, M/M, No Smut, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 17:12:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13252833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhilosophicalRune/pseuds/PhilosophicalRune
Summary: The holidays are over and Patton is deeply disappointed at having to fall back into the routine. He always feels nostalgic and sad on the morning of January 1st, but none of the sides ever know about it. He usually lets himself cry and recover without drawing any attention to it. But this year is different when Logan decides that something must be wrong with his emotional counterpart, because since when is Patton ever late for breakfast? What begins as one of Patton's 'good old fashion cries' quickly devolves into something much worse, and soon, both Patton and Logan are in danger the longer they stay in Patton's overwhelming room...





	New Year's Nostalgia

It had been a tough few weeks for Patton. With Thomas’s heart wrenching breakup with his boyfriend, followed swiftly by the chaos of the ‘Moving On’ videos, and the sharp contrast of sadness and grief to the happiness and delight of the holidays, Patton had been absolutely drowning in a wide array of emotions. He just needed a moment to collect himself. He just needed to _relax_.

The New Year's celebrations were over, but Patton had been thrilled to finally include Virgil in on them. Though the anxious side had mostly sat on the far corner of the couch while scrolling through the depths of Tumblr during their impromptu party on New Year’s Eve, Patton was undeniably jovial at finally having the entire family together in one room celebrating. They had all stayed up until midnight, cheered as the old year died to be replaced with something new, and Virgil had even smiled. It was so much fun that Patton hadn’t wanted to go to bed.

And now, on January 1st, he didn’t want to get up.

For the past few weeks, Patton and the others had had a myriad of events to either dread or look forward to, depending upon who was asked. The exciting holiday events had always been something to look forward to, and they seemed to never stop. There was always something to do: get a tree, decorate the mindscape, bake cookies, wait for Santa! Patton and the sides had been going and going, doing and doing, but now, there was nothing. Nothing new to look forward to. Just a rhythmic fall back into routine. The falling back into the rut.

Patton woke up on the first day of the new year with a calm feeling that was immediately and overwhelmingly crushed with nostalgia and an aching feeling of disappointment. After all the fun, being thrust back into nothing was almost suffocating. No matter how hard he tried to think optimistic thoughts, Patton just couldn’t bring a smile to his face as he buried himself under more layers of blanket. His room was suddenly unbearably cold, and he did not want to get up.

But he had to. The clock already read eight thirty AM, and his stomach was beginning to whine. He sat up, the covers slipping off of his fuzzy blue pajamas. He blinked torpidly, trying to dislodge the crust from his eyes. His vision was completely blurred. He looked around, seeing the outlines of the happy photos, memories, and the Christmas and New Year's accessories that decorated his room. Suddenly, his poor eyesight wasn’t the only reason why his vision was so blurry. Patton’s eyes welled up with tears as he completely realized that Christmas was well and gone.

 _Stop being so irrational,_ Patton could almost hear Logan’s voice in his head, _Christmas comes and goes every year. Surely you see this pattern by now? It’ll come back next year, so there is no rationale for getting so emotionally upheaved about this._

Logan had never said this to Patton, nor had he ever spoken anything along those lines to him either. Because every year, Patton would wake up on New Year's Day, cry his heart out over what once was, and quickly slap on his happy face. He had to. It was his job. Nothing bad, just pure unadulterated good could be felt. None of the sides ever knew the true source of Thomas’s yearly sluggishness on New Year's Day, and hopefully they never would.

Patton shivered as he gathered his bearings, tears streaming down his face. His room always chilled whenever he was feeling sad. With every shuddering exhale he could see his breath. Not even imagining himself as a dragon that breathed smoke could cheer him up today, however. He drew his knees up to his chest, shaking with sobs as that feeling of disappointment soaked through every fiber of his being. Clutching at his teddy bear, he was just about to release the dam of his tears when a rapid-fire yet reserved string of knocks on his door made him jump.

“Patton?” came a calm voice that also had a curious lilt. Patton winced, and quickly scrubbed at his eyes with one hand while reaching for his glasses with the other. He stared with dismay as his blundering hand sent his glasses flying off the nightstand and onto the messy floor below.

“It’s Logan. Are you sleeping?” came the voice again, followed by a less strong string of knocking. Patton tried to answer him, but the only vocalization he could make was a strangled sob. He dropped to the floor, patting along the top layer of detritus desperately in search of his glasses. His fingers swept over dirty clothes, various food wrappers, and the occasional stuffed animal, yet still no glasses. Where had they gone? Angrily, he wiped the tears that continued to pour down his cheeks, willing himself to feel OK again, willing the happy pappy Patton persona to rise once again. He threw some clothes aside, and cringed when the cat hoodie flung to his dresser and knocked some knick-knacks to the floor with a conspicuous crash.

“...Patton, are you alright? Based upon the volume of noise I am hearing coming from within your room I believe that you are awake,” Logan’s voice came again, his monotone tinted with concern.

Patton let out another sob, sinking back on his haunches. His shame and panic rose when he realized that he couldn’t find his glasses and that his secret sadness would soon be discovered. The chill of the room deepened, and he clutched at his arms, willing them to warm again, desperately searching for any happy thought that would warm both the room and his heart. But as the winds rose, he couldn’t think of anything but that disappointment that was swallowing him whole.

Why couldn’t Logan go away? Why couldn’t the logical side, smart as he was, just understand that Patton wasn’t feeling well and just needed to be left alone? Why couldn’t he find his glasses?  

Where had all the time gone?

 

* * *

 

Logan had sensed that something might be amiss with Patton by the way the moral side had not shown up for breakfast. This was an extreme deviation from Patton’s norm, because he insisted on being the first one awake and making them all breakfast. None of the sides exactly knew _why_ he always insisted on cooking breakfast, but none of them exactly complained either. Providing for them all made Patton indescribably happy, and he was always up before the rest of them religiously, coffee pot brewing and food cooking.

And so when Logan had entered the mind palace kitchen at his normal eight o’clock, he had been slightly confused to not see Patton at the stove, humming tunelessly as he cooked, the coffee pot making strange noises as it perked. The kitchen was completely dark, the only light source being the piercingly cold, fluorescent light above the stove-top. That light was kept on each night so that any one of them could have an easier time at getting a midnight snack. Logan had shivered slightly, looking around, searching for a Patton that might be playing a practical joke.

He rubbed his hands indecisively and peered out into the living room. The mess from their party last night still remained, looking eerie in the early morning shadows. Solo cups, half-eaten bowls of chips, and discarded party poppers littered the ground, none of them having the desire to clean up after themselves the night before. Logan turned to look back to the kitchen, and decided to start percolating the coffee, figuring that perhaps Patton was merely sleeping in after staying up well past his normal time to retire (the moral side was usually out like a like at nine-thirty, ten o’clock). He would rise soon.

Logan then settled on cleaning up the mess in the living room, the methodical cleaning taking his mind off of his hunger. He supposed he was being irrational; Logan was completely capable of preparing food for himself, and he should simply do that as his hunger rose, but something was stopping him. Perhaps it was the almost Pavlovian training Patton had inadvertently put them all through (inadvertent in that Logan highly doubted that Patton knew who Pavlov was); the sides all knew that letting Patton cook would ultimately result in a well-made meal, and that any attempt on their part to cook breakfast would of course do the job, but would not be nearly as appealing. Logan had to admit that Patton had a way with food. He always knew how to make food the way each side liked it.

As Logan discarded trash, he found himself listening for the others and glancing at the clock. At 8:30, he threw out the last piece of trash and sat down to drink his coffee and scroll through the morning news on his phone. He blinked as he felt a pang in his chest, the kind of disturbance he felt when he deviated from his schedule or when he was getting an inkling that something was amiss. He _knew_ that he wasn’t in danger and that nothing pressing needed to be done that day, but somehow, a nagging thought in his mind was telling him he was missing something. He wasn't even sure if it was a tangible event he was forgetting. Something was just...missing.

He trained his senses to his immediate surroundings, trying to understand just what he knew was out of place, but everything seemed ordinary, besides Patton sleeping in. Roman and Virgil would soon rise, their growling stomachs aching and their noses twitching as they smelled whatever Patton was making. Logan’s morning quiet time would be disrupted, and his calming companionship with Patton would-

Logan smacked his own temple. That was the deviation from his schedule! How had he missed it?

Every morning between eight and nine o’clock Logan and Patton would sit in the kitchen together and simply enjoy one another’s company. It was the type of companionship that Logan didn’t feel threatened or annoyed by; he would read the news and sip his coffee, content with the background noise of Patton humming as he fried eggs, or griddled pancakes, or whatever else took his fancy. If he did choose to engage Logan in conversation, he made sure that Logan never felt obligated to respond. Suddenly, Logan realized he had been... _missing_ the noise. The room was ominously silent. The morning sounds of Patton cooking and being happy was to Logan what calming soundtracks and meditation apps were to Virgil. It was a relaxing way to start the day, a silent understanding that he and Patton enjoyed.

He thought hard, trying to understand the aching pang in his chest. He remembered going to Patton at one time...when Roman was on one of his quests and he himself had been working, not talking to the others for a few days...what had Patton said, when he described what Logan had been feeling?

 _Loneliness._ Logan was feeling lonely, and it was absurd! So what if Patton wasn’t here? So what if the schedule was deviated from? There was no set schedule anyway, and Patton didn’t owe him anything.

So why was he being so...illogical? No, why deny it? Why was he being so emotional?

Logan shivered as a chill breeze wafted down from the hallway. He rubbed his arms, and took another sip of coffee. The liquid sent warmth radiating through his ribs, but no matter how warm the beverage was, it could not dissuade the goosebumps erupting on his arms. Perhaps he should don some warmer apparel. The only warm clothing he owned, however, was the silly Christmas sweater Roman and Patton had made him. Sighing against another shiver, he rose, and made his way to his room

His room was across the hall from Patton’s. He glanced only once at Patton’s door, a momentary desire to knock and check on the moral side fleeting out of his mind as he shivered again. He stepped into his impeccably kept room, and fished the sweater out of his bureau, sighing as he pulled it over his head. Patton and Roman would have a field day seeing him wear it, but he would do anything to chase away that chill.  

He stepped back out of his room, taking care to be unnecessarily quiet so as to not disturb the others’ slumbers. He began to walk down the hallway and back towards the kitchen when a powerful, chilly draft flew over his merely socked feet. He paused, looking with confusion at the ground. Where on earth had that draft come from? Was it even possible for the mindscape to have a draft?

Another gust blew over his feet, and he coughed as the pang in his chest twisted and felt like a knife thrust. He shook his head, the loneliness in his chest warping into something much worse and ergo unidentifiable to the logical side. Blinking with alarm, he traced the source of the cold to be blowing out from under Patton’s door. He grimaced, rubbing at his chest as the aching feeling grew worse with every draft that blustered over his feet, almost as if the cold was causing his ill emotion. He leaned back against his door, a number of solutions popping into his mind as he voiced a question to himself: _what is causing this pain, and why is it suddenly growing worse?_

 _Answer One:_ Logan, as a facet of a Floridian, did not like the cold. An adverse reaction ensues. But surely, a mere distaste of the cold could not make a lump form in his throat, and could not make his eyes inexplicably begin to sting? Logan had been exposed to cold before while Thomas traveled, and he had never before acted in this way. Answer One discarded.

 _Answer Two:_ Exposure to cold with no other being present activated his instinctual desire not only for warmth, but also for human contact. Perhaps this overwhelmingly aching feeling was a psychological symptom of distress. Perhaps he was equating a physical symptom of distress, i.e, a chill, with a psychological symptom of distress, i.e, a lack of human, emotional warmth. That certainly would make sense.

 _Answer Three:_ The cold was not merely cold temperature alone, but a force that had the ability to warp his emotional integrity. He shook his head, clearing it. That only raised more questions.

But why was this feeling _familiar?_

Logan screwed his eyes shut, filtering through his memories, sifting through past sensations. The last time he had felt this sensation, this feeling of sadness but also yearning, this intense loneliness not necessarily stemming from a lack of company, was when he and the others had gone into Patton’s room, when Patton was feeling nostalgic and sad about lacking happiness that was present in the past. It had been chilly in his room then, too.

Logan’s eyes shot open and he smacked his temple again.

 _Nostalgia,_ He was feeling nostalgia. Immediately, he became confused as to why. He had no reason to be nostalgic. Reminiscing on the past year had happened last night. Memories were remembered, happy times were smiled about, bad times were sworn to never happen again. Now, he was starting afresh. So why was he feeling this way?

“Why did I feel nostalgic last time?” he breathed to himself, verbalizing his train of thought so as to better understand it. Now that he made the comparison, it was painfully obvious: his emotions, or whatever repressed ones he had left, were affected by the moral side’s room. It was common knowledge that each side’s room affected any of the others that came into it, which was why none of them ever really visited each other for very long. That was why a commons had been established all those years ago; it was a place where they could all confer and plan without utterly destroying Thomas’s emotional and mental balance.

As the chill seeping from Patton’s room made Logan’s teeth chatter and his eyes sting, he concluded that it was a bad sign. He had no idea how he reached that conclusion, and he found that he didn't care when his desire to ensure that the moral side was safe overrode his desire to assess how he reached his conclusions. He stepped forward, and knocked his standard rapid-fire series of knocks.

 

* * *

 

When Logan heard the crash of something falling over in Patton’s room, coupled with no verbal response to his questions on Patton’s part, Logan felt his nostalgia become smeared over with worry. He pressed his ear against the door, cupping his hand around it so as to hear better. He gasped when the ice cold door touched his tender skin, and he instantly recoiled, his ear somehow numb even after seconds of contact. He leaned forward once more, this time not touching the wood, and listened.

His jaw clenched. From within, he distinctly heard someone sobbing.

Misgivings as well as thoughts of action instantly flew across his mind. His first instinct was to avoid the situation so as to avoid icky emotions. But, he reasoned as he became fervently aware of the nostalgia and other such emotions throbbing in his chest, it was already a bit too late for that. As he heard the sobbing grow louder and more stuttery, and as he felt what he immediately understood to be worry and empathy welling up inside him, Logan knew he had to help.

“Patton? I have reason to believe you are experiencing emotional unrest,” he called, stunning himself by how his voice seemed to crack as another gust of wind swept across his legs, “I’m coming in.”

He grasped the frigid door knob, and turned it, going quickly inside so as to silence any further misgivings. When he crossed the threshold, he let out a gasp.

Patton’s room was an utter mess, the neat freak in Logan screaming in mortal agony at the sight. Memories, sentimental trinkets, and signs of habitation were strewn in every which way. Logan saw broken gadgets wrapped around the cat hoodie he had given Patton, and deduced that to be the source of the crashing. But suddenly, he found that he could barely think when a forceful gust of sub zero wind almost knocked him sideways. Immediately, he felt tears that were not his own springing to his eyes, the liquid stinging in the cold.

“Patton?” he called out, poking under his glasses to wipe his eyes. He looked around, his motions much more frantic as pure panic for Patton’s wellbeing drove nearly all logical thought out of his mind. Already, after being in Patton’s room for approximately ten seconds, was he losing his rationale. The cold, the overwhelming feeling of sadness; it was all rapidly becoming too much for the logical side, who, as he liked to quote Hermione Granger, had the ‘emotional capacity of a teaspoon’.

The inexplicable wind blustered around Logan, and he couldn't think in as organized a manner to begin to comprehend why it was there in the first place, and why it seemed that with every gust he was closer and closer to tears. All he could focus on was finding Patton and escaping the crushing feeling of helplessness and sadness that was soaking through him to his very bones.

“Patton, where are you?!” Logan cried out, grasping at his head and shaking it roughly from side to side like a dog ridding its ears of water.

“...Logan?”

Logan turned on his heel and nearly fell over for a brutal gust of wind knocking him off his feet. Balancing himself on the edge of Patton’s bed just before he hit the ground, he looked up and saw Patton on his knees, surrounded by hastily strewn about belongings, tears streaming down his glasses-less face.  

Logan growled, rubbing at his temples, trying desperately to regain his sense of control but failing utterly. His heart was racing as he felt wave after pounding wave of raw emotion sweeping over him, a bout of mood swings on drugs racing through his system. Was this what Patton felt everyday? He gasped, sucking in a huge breath when he forced himself to think.

“Whazza matter?” he slurred, finding his voice to be cracking in all of the wrong places, at all the wrong times. His vision zoomed in an out, growing blurry with tears. All Logan wanted to do was curl up into a ball and hide, to cry, to scream, a series of desires that frightened him to his very core. “Di’nt come to...food…”

But Patton wasn’t listening. Logan blinked, and saw Patton struggling to get to his feet. “I can’t see!” he cried out suddenly, sinking to his knees once again and beginning to search the ground in strange, sweeping motions.

Logan couldn’t take it any longer. He felt that this was what a person felt like before they were going to pass out. With barely any conscious thought, he staggered to his feet, reached blindly out until he felt a warm Patton in his grasp, and dragged until they both tumbled out of the room. Logan deposited Patton onto the hall floor and turned to slam the door shut, the howling wind silenced immediately. He never wanted to feel that cold. Never again.

Logan instantly scrambled to his feet, shaking his head, his breathing scattered and stuttery. Emotions were aswirl in his chest, and his eyes were burning with tears that streamed uninhibited down his cheeks.

“...L-Logan? I can’t...I can’t _see,_ ” Patton whimpered at his feet.

Logan made a noise halfway between a sigh and a whimper, too much of a wreck to form comprehensible words, and pulled Patton to his feet. He ushered the shaking moral side into his own room. Wordlessly, he took off his own glasses, handed them to Patton, and stumbled to his desk, shoving papers aside until he found his spare glasses. Pushing them lopsidedly up his nose, he grasped his knees, bent double. For a few moments, they merely breathed, shuddering with relief as the calm warmth of Logan’s room allowed them to get their bearings.

“What was _that?!_ ” Logan hissed, straightening up and beginning to pace. He felt like he had stepped out of a warm shower, been thrust against freezing tile, and then shoved back into a now scalding shower; his nerves were clanging like that of a town crier's bell from ages past.

Patton looked up and saw Logan pacing back and forth like an agitated cat, taking off his glasses and scrubbing at his eyes. Patton’s throat swelled when he saw tears running down Logan’s cheeks, and he heard his stuttery breathing; his heart absolutely broke when he heard Logan whimper, and he began to scrub at his eyes.

“Logan, I-I’m so sorry…” Patton whimpered, guilt and shame twitching in his stomach. He felt his abdomen contract, like he was about to vomit. He doubled over, clutching his hands to his stomach, and burst into defeated tears. All he wanted was to go back to bed. He didn’t _want_ to be in Logan’s room, where he could feel blunt tendrils of the room’s aura begin to drill into his brain, pure logic and rationale sifting through and tearing apart his emotions well before he was ready. To Patton, being in Logan’s room felt like euthanasia. He could feel himself drifting away, a veil falling between his hurt and his consciousness. He could feel his guilt over having Logan enter his room and his shame at being found in such a state washing away It was mind numbing.

Logan was beginning to return to his old self, the emotion in his chest growing numb around the edges. He felt like he could breathe again. He felt less and less like crying and screaming. He was thrown from his savoring when he heard Patton softly crying and muttering incoherent apologies. Instantly, his stomach twisted, and the emotions in his chest throbbed like an infected sore.

Logan knelt down, the pain numbing more and more the longer he submerged himself in his room. However, there was no denying the concern he felt for his friend.

“Patton…” he murmured, “Is that what you feel all the time?”

Patton sniffled, and looked up, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He shook his head, and Logan winced at the redness of the moral side’s eyes.

“No...Well, not all the time. It’s just today I...” Patton whispered, “...You’re gonna think I’m being _stupid_ again…”

“Patton, anything that can make you feel this terrible and make your room do... _that_ is most certainly not ‘stupid’ in my book,” Logan said.

Logan began to notice a change overcome the moral side. Patton shuffled, rubbing at his temples. His eyes, squeezed shut to stem tears, opened crisply. He had stopped crying, and his muscles had loosened. He sat up, his shoulders straightening. Logan shuddered inwardly as Patton turned his gaze to him, and he blinked as if his mind and heart was clearing. His gaze was almost lifeless. Heartless.

“No, I suppose not,” Patton said mechanically, “But I can’t help but think that growing nostalgic about the past years, which is what caused me to become so disturbed, is silly, especially when we dedicated an entire evening to reminiscing just last night.”

Logan’s brows furrowed, his eyes scanning Patton up and down. His entire speech pattern had completely changed; normally, his inflections were extreme, and he said his words with more emphasis, regardless of whether they deserved it or not. And his tone was usually so warm and emphatic. Now, he seemed so blunt, so cold. And Patton was anything but those things.

“And I certainly believe that getting that worked up was uncalled for. So what if the holidays are over? They come back every year,” Patton deadpanned.

This transformation, though much more desirable than his previous emotional outburst, inspired a nagging, unnerving thought in the back of Logan’s mind. Initially, he thought that Patton was recovering himself, but…

What if, just as Patton’s room had affected Logan’s emotional integrity, Logan’s own room was merely numbing the moral side, like an unwanted shot of anaesthetic?

“You know,” Logan said, standing up and offering his hand to Patton, “I thought it would be much easier and enjoyable to be with you if you dropped some of your emotional irregularities, but I am finding your change, likely resulting from you spending extended periods of time in my room, to be alarming and upsetting.”

“Wait, _no_ ,” Patton said, swatting Logan’s hand away, “Perhaps it is better to stay here. I can...I can feel myself calming down. I can see how silly I’ve been-”

“No, Patton, that’s not calming down,” Logan said, pulling Patton to his feet, “That’s repressing your emotions. That’s what happens when any of you come into my room. You start to mimic me. And trust me, that is not healthy, especially for one as feeling as you. Why didn’t I think of this before taking you here?”

For the second time in under ten minutes, Logan was dragging Patton towards the door. He quickly pushed the moral side out, and shut the door behind them. Logan felt a calm wash over him, and sighed: back to normal. No more throbbing in his chest. That gasp of fresh air from his room was all he needed to recover from the foray into Patton’s room. And so it was with a clear mind that he turned to face Patton, who was blinking rapidly, his hands coming up to pat at his face. He was staring blankly at the floor, but as Logan watched, he could see the horror and realization dawning on his face. Suddenly, his eyes filled again with renewed tears, but Logan never got a chance to see them fall before Patton covered his face with his hands. Logan winced as Patton started sobbing again, his shoulders hunching.

“Oh, dear…” Logan muttered to himself, rubbing at his own neck and chewing the inside of his cheek. Now what to do? His first thought was to let Patton sort himself out, but an overwhelmingly powerful thought to the contrary struck it down in an instant. He knew he had to comfort Patton in some way, and he knew he wanted to, but he had no idea how to go about doing it. How did Patton normally go about comforting the others?

Hugs. Patton loved to give hugs. Perhaps by extension he would like to get one in return?

Tentatively, Logan reached a hand forward and rested it on Patton’s shoulder. Patton tensed, and peeked through his fingers at him. Logan shot him an awkward grin, praying that Patton would just understand what he was trying to do. He cursed himself when Patton merely hid his face again and continued to cry.

 _Once more unto the breach, dear friends,_ Logan thought as he hesitantly took a step closer to Patton and pulled the other into a stiff hug. He had no idea where his hands were supposed to go, or whether or not he was pulling Patton too close. He placed stiffly splayed fingers onto Patton’s back, wondering vaguely whether or not Patton was going to unfold himself and hug back when Patton’s arms quite unexpectedly rocketed forward and squeezed Logan so hard the logical side actually gagged. Logan coughed, and Patton got the hint, loosening his grip only slightly but burying his head into the crook of Logan’s shoulders and shaking.

Logan, despite his distaste at the fact that he could feel Patton’s tears on his skin, found that he actually didn’t mind the feel of Patton hugging him. He felt his muscles loosening, and he curled his fingers around Patton’s back, recalling every piece of research he had done on how to comfort someone. He rubbed soothing circles on his back with one hand, recalling that that was what Patton did for Virgil whenever Virgil was having another episode of panic, and he quickly moved his other hand to Patton’s hair, remembering that that was something Patton did for Roman whenever the creative side was dramatically lamenting about his latest issue. He was deeply pleased when Patton melted into the touch and hugged Logan tighter, sniffling and hiccuping.

“Patton, I am still a little unclear as to what exactly has brought you to such a state, but I can tell you with reasonable assurance that you will recover from whatever is troubling you,” Logan said quietly, slowly rocking back and forth, hoping that the movement would be comforting (it was said to be comforting for young children; perhaps it would work with Patton as well?).   

It did. After a few minutes of gentle rocking and general togetherness, Patton pulled away, significantly calmer. Logan made sure that Patton was the one to pull away first, giving the moral side as much comfort as he needed. Logan smiled softly when Patton wiped his tears away, a sheepish smile blooming onto his face.

“There you are,” Logan said, reaching up and squeezing Patton’s shoulder comfortingly, “Have you recovered?”

Patton shrugged, but giggled nonetheless. “I feel a little better after that hug.”

“I wasn't sure whether I was doing it right,” Logan admitted, “But do you feel comfortable enough to tell me what has been bothering you? And just why your room...does that?”

Patton’s smiled faded slightly, but he nodded. “Yeah. I’ll tell you over breakfast...Aw, darn it, it probably won't be ready for when the kiddos wake up!”

Patton sighed, and shook his head. “But before anything, are you OK?”

Logan blinked. “Of course.”

“You’re crying.”

Logan wiped at his eyes, and was startled to still see tears streaming out of them. “I…”

“My room did that to you,” Patton said bitterly, “I-I’m really sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry, Patton, this is just...” Logan said, gesturing to his quickly drying tears “It is just the aftereffects of being in your room for too long. I appear to have adverse reactions to the place. But that is just how the mindscape works, remember? We all generally do not fare well if we stay too long in one anothers’ rooms. It is no fault of your own. I assure you, I feel fine.”

Patton pulled a skeptical expression, sniffling. “Are you sure?”

Logan smiled comfortingly, and nodded. “You know that our rooms have effects on each other, and that it takes relatively little time to recover. Trust me, this is all merely residue. See? My tears are already almost gone.”

Patton giggled as Logan made a show of rubbing his eyes and grinning, his cheeks miraculously dry. He allowed Logan to gently guide him towards the kitchen. “And don’t worry about breakfast. Just sit and tell me what’s the matter,” Logan said.

Patton protested when Logan pressed him into his chair at the kitchen table, but calmed considerably when Logan handed him a glass of water and his phone that was opened up to Candy Crush, one of Patton’s favorite games. Logan would never admit to the fact that the only reason why he had the game on his phone was because he knew Patton liked it and would take anyone’s phone to play it. Logan listened quietly as Patton began to explain how he was feeling nostalgic about the past year, wishing that time would move just a little slower so that he’d have time to savor all of the good things. Soon, Patton’s talking, the quiet music of the game, and the sound of bacon frying filled the kitchen.

“I mean...I _know_ that Christmas and all that fun stuff happens every year,” Patton said later, absently making patterns on Candy Crush while listening to the quiet sounds of Logan making breakfast, “But I can’t help but get nostalgic. So much fun stuff happened last year!”

Logan hummed in agreement. “Yes, I agree.”

Patton watched as Logan skillfully cracked eggs into a bowl and began to beat them with a whisk. “And there was so much fun stuff towards the end there, like Christmas and making the Christmas video with the boys and the Secret Santa and now that it’s all gone, and there’s nothing to do I just...feel let down,” he said, resting his cheek on his hand and dejectedly trying to solve the next level.  

“Well, there certainly is no shame in that at all, Patton. In fact, I’d consider that response to be completely normal,” Logan said, swirling some butter around the skillet in preparation for the eggs while simultaneously keeping an eye on the bacon.  

“Really?”

Logan looked over his shoulder and saw Patton looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “Really, Patton. With such a string of exciting events, one gets used to the sensations of happiness. If a person very much enjoys the holidays, and I am assuming that you are, they naturally experience an influx of ‘happy hormones’, such as endorphins, and it can be almost intoxicating to the mind to have such a rush of these hormones over an extended period of time,”

He paused to pour the eggs into the skillet. “And, naturally, if that near constant supply of endorphins is to be revoked, for example by an end of the holidays, then it is only logical for a person to experience what you aptly deemed as ‘let down’.”

He looked over when he heard silence from Patton, and saw the moral side gazing thoughtfully up to the ceiling, his still wet eyes shining. “...So my endolphins done and got me down again, huh?”

“...That’s one way of putting it, I suppose. Though next time say ‘endorphins’.”

“And I guess I just got so worked up because, well...I’m kinda ashamed of it all,” Patton said, his voice trailing to a murmur.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Would you please repeat yourself?” Logan asked, scraping burning egg off the side of the skillet.

“I mean...I know you all said that I should open up more about how I’m feeling and all, but I’m still ashamed for feeling bad,” Patton muttered.

“Don’t be.”

“But it’s _hard_ , you know?” Patton sighed frustratedly.

“Well, as the saying goes, ‘old habits die hard’,” Logan said, scraping the eggs onto a plate and placing them in oven so that the pilot light would keep them warm for when Virgil and Roman arose.

Patton gave a watery chuckle, and wiped his nose. “I thought you’d call me an idiot for feeling like this. And for making my room all chilly again.”

Logan cracked an egg directly onto the skillet, and watched it carefully. “While at most times I tend to let emotion escape me and thusly do not understand them as well as I’d like to, I can never say that you are an idiot for feeling things, Patton. Though it is difficult to deflect the urge to call something I don’t understand stupid, I say with force that you are not stupid for reacting as you did.”

Patton smiled.

“Though, you reference ‘making your room chilly’ as if it is a common occurrence. I am unaware as to there being any form of climate change in any other part of the mindscape, so this phenomenon is both new and fascinating to me. Do you feel that you are recovered enough to fill me in on the meteorological behavior of your room?” Logan asked, feeling safe enough to turn from the stove and give Patton his undivided attention.

“Oh,” Patton said, giggling nonchalantly, “That’s just something that’s always happened. Whenever I get real sad or just don’t feel good my room always gets cold,”

“Does the opposite happen when you are experiencing pleasant emotions?”

“Yeah,” Patton said, “Though my room has never gotten that nippy before. I guess you could say that the temperature got a little too Lo-”

“Don’t you dare,” Logan snapped, pointing threateningly with his spatula.

“-gan,” Patton said, clapping his hand over his mouth as he giggled impishly.

Logan groaned but couldn’t help but smile as he heard Patton’s signature giggles returning. “I’m going to ignore that joke in favor of discussing the room. So, if I understand properly, the ‘weather’ of the room directly correlates with your mood?”

Patton nodded.

“Fascinating,” Logan said, “I noticed that the conditions seemed to worsen when I entered, and that the worse the conditions got, the more we both were affected. Did I somehow frighten you, or cause you to feel some other ill emotion?”

Patton shook his head quickly. “No! No of course not, Lo. I was just...I don’t know, _ashamed_ that you’d found me in such a mess that I just freaked. I know I shouldn’t be ashamed, but I just am.”

“I’m sorry that you felt the need to grow alarmed at my intrusion. I hope you understand now that you have no need to fear judgment from me,” Logan said, cursing himself for making Patton believe he had to conceal how he felt.

“I know, Lo. Thanks for being so nice,” Patton said, wiping away his final tears, “But why did you come to my room in the first place?”

Logan hesitated. What could he say? That he had felt lonely, being all by himself in the kitchen in the morning? That he had missed the the babbling chatter Patton supplied each morning, the same chatter he had often found annoying?

 _Yes, because if you don’t, you’ll be suppressing your emotions, and on that token you’d be a hypocrite_ , a voice in Logan’s head said.

He sighed, flipping the fried egg onto a plate and laying a few slices of crispy bacon beside it. “I grew alarmed at your absence. You are usually the first to rise. However, I just assumed you were sleeping in due to your braving of the dark hours of the night last night. I then felt a chill, so I went to don this sweater-” he pulled at his sweater- “But I realize now that the chill I felt was the draft from your room. I reacted to the chill as if I was in your room itself, and grew worried for your emotional health. I went in to investigate and you know the rest.”

“Oh...sorry to worry you,” Patton mumbled, poking dejectedly at the phone. Goodness, when was he going to stop being such a burden?

He gasped however when a plate piled high with a perfectly fried egg, crispy bacon, and two slices of crispy toast was placed in front of him. Patton looked up and saw Logan hovering next to him, a stiff yet good-natured smile on his face.

“While those are the said ‘cut and dry’ reasons as to why I went to your room...I must admit that a more motivating reason was that I rather missed our time spent together in the mornings,” Logan said quietly, “I never quite understood how much of a positive impact spending those few minutes alone in the morning with you had upon my attitude. So, I guess, in my loneliness, I inadvertently went to seek you out.”

When Patton’s mouth went from a frown to a grin to a dazzling smile in a matter of seconds, Logan knew he had said the right thing.

“Awwww, Logan!” Patton squealed, “That’s so sweet! Gosh, after that and making me breakfast and lending me your glasses and giving me all this advice and being so nice- shoot, I might just start tearing up again!”

Patton leaned over and wrapped Logan into another hug, squishing his cheek against Logan’s stomach and humming happily. Slightly perturbed, Logan patted Patton awkwardly on the head.

“OK, that’s enough please, Patton,” Logan said gently a few seconds later, extricating himself from Patton’s grasp gently.

Patton gave one last sniffle and beamed up at Logan, who looked undeniably pleased. “Thank you so much for helping me, Lo.”

Logan’s mouth twitched. “It was no trouble. Besides, sometimes all a person needs in order to feel better is a simple-” he patted Patton’s back, a smirk forming on his lips, “Patton the back.”

Patton’s squeal of delight was so loud that Roman and Virgil sat bolt upright in their beds, convinced that the world was ending.

“ _Logan Sanders,_ did you just _intentionally_ make-” Patton shouted, dropping his knife and fork in excitement.

“Yes, I did,” Logan interrupted, his eyes twinkling, “But please do not inform the others. And eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

Patton pressed his hands to his mouth, completely incomprehensible as he babbled in excitement. Suddenly, Logan felt a wave of warm, cozy air waft from the hallway and into the kitchen. He grinned knowingly.

Patton was feeling better.

When Virgil and Roman emerged from their rooms a few minutes later, tentatively poking their heads into the kitchen as if expecting to witness carnage, they stopped dead in their hesitant tracks when they saw a deviation from the norm.

Breakfast was being cooked alright (thankfully, as their stomachs were roaring), only Logan was the one at the stove, clumsily flipping pancakes as he listened to Patton, who was seated at the table, babbling about how well the New Year was most certainly going to be. It was quite odd, seeing Patton seated at the table, steadily eating away at his favorite fried eggs and bacon, and Logan making enough pancakes for all. They exchanged bewildered glances.  

“Good morning, kiddos!” Patton called brightly when he saw the other two sides enter the room and stare at him in confusion.

Roman grunted sleepily and Virgil gave a tired salute, the two of them both making a rather stumbly beeline to the coffee pot. Logan looked over his shoulder and nodded at them. “Greeting, Virgil and Roman. There are some scrambled eggs in the oven so that they might stay warm, along with some bacon.”

Roman blinked, having been beaten to the coffee by Virgil. He pointed at Logan, and, addressing the room at large said “...Huh?”

“I said that there are eggs in the oven-”

“No,” Roman said in frustration, far too groggy to do anything to further his point but point from Logan to Patton and make confused noises. He shrugged when Logan shot him his unmistakable ‘say nothing more on the subject’ glare and resorting instead to turning to the coffee pot, sleepily nudging Virgil aside.

Virgil squinted at Patton, and pointed to his face. “...Those new glasses?”

Patton smiled, shooting a knowing glance at Logan’s turned back. “Just for a little while.”

Logan smiled.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Patton did eventually find his glasses. They had been knocked off his nightstand and had somehow ended up in the uncharted territory that was better known as the underside of his bed. When  Logan had gone in there to help the moral side find them later after breakfast, he couldn’t help but notice how toasty warm the room was, strong rays of sun filtering from every corner and warming the logical side’s very soul.

And after this New Year’s nostalgic disaster, there formed a silent agreement between Logan and Patton that should Patton ever find himself needing an extra blanket while he was in his room, he would leave the room and quietly knock on Logan’s door. They would both head out into the commons, and they would work through whatever event was causing Patton distress. Sometimes it would happen during the day, sometimes in the morning, or sometimes it happened in the dead of night. Always, however, was Logan ready to help his friend through his struggles. And that wasn’t only because he got preferential treatment from Patton later on, and it certainly wasn’t only because Logan’s breakfast food was never, ever burnt or undercooked after that. No, there was more to it than Logan would ever admit. Some things about friendship still baffled the logical side, but his desire to help Patton was not one of those baffling things.

Eventually, Roman and Virgil learned not to ask question when on some occasions, a red-eyed Patton would be playing Candy Crush on Logan’s phone while the man himself would be making breakfast.

But each morning, from between eight and nine o’clock, Logan and Patton could readily be found in the kitchen, Logan sitting at the table and reading the news while Patton chattered at him as he made breakfast. And as the months went by, Logan found himself less capable of finishing his news article, because he was too engaged in conversation with the moral side to finish.

It had been a tough few weeks for Patton, and it had been a tough start to the new year. But with Logan’s help, he knew it was going to be a great one.  

 

 

 

 

  

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, all! It's been so long, hasn't it? Sorry, I've been busy with the arrival of the New Year. Thank you all for your patience, and hit me up @theonlyjelly-iwillput-onmybelly.tumblr.com if you want to submit prompts or submerge yourself in memes.


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